


Unbreakable

by ubetterDNCE



Category: JONAS, Jonas Brothers
Genre: Angst, Discipline, Incest, Joick - Freeform, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-19 02:20:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11303727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ubetterDNCE/pseuds/ubetterDNCE
Summary: Joe decides to take some sneaky snapchats of Nick working out at the gym. And Nick doesn't like that. Not one bit.





	Unbreakable

**Author's Note:**

> None of these events happened in real life (I would hope not). And Joe and Nick, if you ever come across this, I am so sorry.

Stepping out of the shower, Joe absently grabbed for a fresh towel hanging on the rack. He rubbed the bleached cloth up and down his skin, soaking up the leftover droplets that weren’t caught on the bathmat. He ran the towel through his disheveled hair before wiping the fogged up mirror to reveal his own blurred figure staring back at him. Joe took a few steps backwards to analyze the contours of his stomach, running a soft finger over the slight shape of his newfound abs. He sucked in his stomach and puffed it back out periodically, poking areas that he wished were a little more defined.

Joe sighed, willing himself to defeat any kind of internal conversations about the body that he wished he had. It just seemed like there weren’t enough hours in the day and enough calories to burn to get there.

Joe reached underneath the sink to find the lavender scented lotion he kept among the rest of his toiletries. Arching his leg up on the empty bathtub, he slathered the pale cream onto his smooth legs. Joe breathed out in content as he rubbed it up and down and into his skin, relishing in the feeling of a blank canvas. He went through more razors shaving his legs than he did his face but he didn’t mind. He liked it that way.

Joe ripped his hand backwards as if he had just placed it against a hot stovetop once he rubbed the lotion into a particularly sensitive cut. Simultaneously, a large knock sounded on the door, causing Joe to jump backwards and nearly slip on the slick tiled floor.

“Joe!” Nick said in a tone a bit louder than necessary.

“What!” Joe shot back, placing the lotion back underneath the sink.

“Are you almost ready to go?”

“Yeah, one sec,” Joe said, reaching for his bathrobe that hung against the back of the door. Joe slung it around his waist, sighing at the warmth it enveloped him in. He almost wished he could just go back to bed and fall asleep in the robe— the sound of the bustling cars in Los Angeles being the only sound in the background.

“Alright, I’ll be waiting in the kitchen.”

As Joe heard Nick’s footsteps echo through the hallway, he went inside his bedroom and dug through his drawers with clothes neatly folded thanks to his stylist that had stopped in with a new wardrobe earlier in the week. He picked the first pair of basketball shorts that sat on top of a pile in different colors and brands— red Nike’s, black Adidas, grey Under Armor. Joe also grabbed a pair of compression leggings that had been sent to him to try weeks ago— that was sitting in a cardboard box until now. Holding them up against the sunlight seeping through the window, Joe stretched the waist of the garment and questioned whether or not they would be too tight. He contemplated how girls managed to wear them everyday— weren’t they too tight? Like, uncomfortable tight?

Regardless, Joe settled on a grey pair to coincide with his grey sweatpants. He settled on a size medium— knowing it would probably fit his waist the best but whether or not it would hold in his nether regions was another issue. Joe analyzed the inside of the material, assuming that he could probably wear them without underwear, right? His athletic underwear wasn’t clean anyways and he didn’t want to deal with the chafing associated with the sweaty cotton boxer-briefs that overflowed his top drawer.

Joe slipped them on, cursing to himself as he struggled to get them past his calves and up to his thighs. 

“Jesus!” He muttered as he shimmied over to a mirror, digging his fingernails into the stretchy material as he pulled them up towards his waist. As soon as they were settled into a reasonable place despite the band already digging into his skin, he straightened out the jagged edges poking out. 

Joe nearly laughed to himself as he saw the full length image of his body staring back at him. The portion of the leggings that met his middle was definitely the most ridiculous aspect of this look because well, it was too big. 

“Joe, what are you doing?” The door hastily opened along with Nick’s voice, causing Joe to scramble for his shorts. “Joe— oh my. What are you wearing?”

“They’re uh— well, they were sitting in my drawers. They’re compression leggings. Supposed to help with performance and make you run faster, and stuff,” Joe was stumbling over his words— admittedly spewing out bullshit about a topic that he wasn’t entirely familiar with. In reality, he just wanted to see what they looked like.

“Wow. I uh, I can see that,” Nick replied, giving Joe the up and down. “The part about it helping with performance.”

Joe could physically feel his cheeks tint in embarrassment, turning his back on Nick as he reached for his gym shorts. He slipped them up and over the leggings. He stopped once more to look at himself in the mirror, recognizing that the leggings with the shorts were slightly less ridiculous, but still a bit of a look nonetheless.

“You’re seriously going to wear those to the gym?” Nick scoffed, starting to silently chuckle to himself. “I really don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone wear those. Well, women obviously—“

“Shut up, Nick,” Joe muttered, digging through his drawers for a t-shirt.

Nick scoffed as he leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. Joe pushed past him— heading into the kitchen to grab a water out of the fridge. 

“Can you grab one for me too?” Nick asked as he grabbed his car keys off of the holder, jingling in his hands. 

“Yeah,” Joe replied, flipping the second bottle around in his hands after shutting the fridge. “You sure the weather is good enough to be driving the Thunderbird today?” 

“Why not?” Nick shrugged, squinting his eyes outside of one of the windows where the clouds were inevitably rolling through— casting a grey mask over the sky.

The two headed out to the secluded driveway where Nick’s vintage baby— the 1960 firetruck red Ford Thunderbird sat underneath a black covering. It was his personal gift to himself after finishing up his last record. Joe reached for one end of the smock as Nick grabbed the other, leaving it to lay on the ground.

“Can I drive?” Joe asked— kind of just to irritate his little brother. He asked almost everyday and always got the same answer. It wouldn’t be any different today.

“Absolutely not,” Nick said in the smug way that he always did, sliding into the driver’s seat.

They were only halfway through some emo Bon Iver song that Nick was playing when Joe disconnected his iPhone and plugged in his own.

“What are you doing?” Nick said, glancing over at Joe as the light in front of him turned green.

“Putting on something less boring,” Joe said nonchalantly. 

The opening chords of Sigrid’s _Don’t Kill My Vibe_ filled the car and the surrounding air around them, drowning out the sound of the engine whirring as Joe increasingly turned the volume up. Nick’s fingers were still clenched around the steering wheel in frustration, but his knuckles began to flood back to their original color as Joe’s voice harmonized with that coming from the speakers.

 _“You shut me down, you like the control. You speak to me like I’m a child,”_ Joe sang, head tipped back against the cushioned seats. 

Joe’s deep chest voice was nearly contradictory to the young girl’s who was singing this, but it still sounded nice. Out of the corner of his eye, he could tell by Joe’s scrunched facial expressions that he was partially kidding around but also giving it his all. He smiled.

As the song gradually picked up speed, Joe’s voice went higher along with it. He began swaying his head back and forth, grabbing onto Nick’s bicep to get his attention.

 _“You think you’re so important to me, don’t you? But I wanted you to know that you don’t belong here!”_ Joe’s body rocked forward with each word, bouncing up and down in his seat.

“You are unreal,” Nick scoffed to himself, but Joe only turned the volume up higher. They were beginning to turn heads at stop lights— grabbing the attention even of pedestrians that were walking on the sidewalk.

There were only two more songs before they arrived at the gym, Joe enthusiastically hopping out of the car, slinging his bag around his shoulder.

“If you keep wasting all your time singing in the car, you’re not going to have a voice by the time your show tomorrow comes around,” Nick snickered, bumping into Joe before opening the door to the gym.

“Sure,” Joe playfully rolled his eyes before walking over to greet his trainer.

Nick decided to head over to the mats while Joe started out on cardio. Nick refused to do cardio after reading too many articles about how its negative effects outweigh their benefits. But Joe begged to differ, telling Nick he shouldn’t always believe everything he read on the internet. Nick supposed he was right.

Nick propped his foot up on a bench, bending over and stretching towards his foot, feeling the muscles strain in his calf. He alternated a few times while he watched the speed on Joe’s treadmill gradually increase, the tap tap sound of his sneakers hitting the machine echoing across the room. It only took a few minutes before Joe was dripping with sweat, clutching the edges of the treadmill as he came to a stop. Ava, his trainer was waiting on standby to hand an ice cold water to him. Nick swallowed as he watched his brothers adam’s apple bob with each sip.

Just as Joe had looked over to Nick, cocking his head upwards in acknowledgement, Nick turned the other way, acting like he didn’t really see him. 

Nick had done some jump roping and heavy roping activities— the sound of the looped cord forming a rhythm of its own as it repeatedly hit the floor. He took a seat on the bench for a brief break, scrolling through his phone as Joe began to get ready to do some boxing. Sipping on his water, Nick looked on as Joe’s trainer secured the bulky gloves around his hands. Joe’s head fell backwards in laughter at something Ava had said while she wrapped the tape over his wrists. He wondered what they were talking about. Nick furrowed his eyebrow— wondering when he started to feel inclined to listen in on all of his brothers conversations.

Joe and Ava had their own little corner in the gym away from everyone else. There were only a few other guys there— most of them minding their own business with their headphones in. Nick watched as Joe’s face scrunched up in focus, body posed and prepared as Ava started darting pads towards his face. It was clear that Joe was in the zone, his mouth slightly parted as his hands reacted right on beat. 

He had significantly gotten better at this since he did that underwear photoshoot for Guess, Nick realized. He was more coordinated than he used to be— long were the days where Nick would standby and laugh as his brother repeatedly got knocked in the face and lost his footing. Nick used to get amusement out of watching Joe make a fool out of himself. But really, Joe was the one who had the last laugh when he ended up having abs more prominent than Nick even tried to achieve.

Rather, Joe was alert and quick. He ducked and cowered when necessary, proving to be a viable component for Ava as she audibly egged him on. Come on, Joe. That’s it, Joe. Hit it harder, Joe.

Nick could hear the heavy breaths his brother was taking in between punches, sweat beads dripping down the back of his neck. Ava and Joe went at it for what felt like an hour— not until Ava had retired, telling Joe that he had done good for the day, but to practice his footing before coming back next time. Nick wouldn’t know the difference.

At that point, Nick realized his small break ended up being much longer than anticipated. He asked for one of the gym’s trainers to spot him as he set himself up at one of the overhead weight stations. Nick grabbed one with 75 pounds on each side— starting out heavier than normal, absentmindedly trying to outdo both himself and his brother. If Joe could set goals for himself then he could too.

Nick tucked his lips into his mouth to avoid clenching his teeth together, slowly pushing the long bar above his head. He counted out loud to himself, reaching the number three before Joe’s face appeared in his line of sight.

“Huuuulk!” Joe said in this ridiculous attempt at an impersonation, making Nick roll his eyes before putting the bar back in place. “Oh— looks like the Incredible Hulk is retiring today ladies and gentlemen! Come back tomorrow for—“

“Shut up, Joe,” Nick muttered, taking a large sip of his water he had placed underneath the bench.

Joe simply laughed in response, grabbing a seat on the bench next to Nick. He dug his phone out of his pocket, scrolling through his Instagram feed.

Nick stood up, grabbing some of the dumbbell sets from the shelf. He started out at 25, but gradually worked his way upwards with each monotonous rep. The grip of his hand started to become stiff and weak once he reached 100 pounds. He faced the wall where the mirror was, watching himself flex in the reflection. At one point, he had closed his eyes for a moment and when he had opened them back up, Joe was standing by with his phone’s camera pointed towards Nick.

“We’re working hard here at Unbreakable gym today!” Joe said enthusiastically, catering to his audience of snapchatters or Instagram followers or something. He was always better at keeping up with social media than Nick was.

The slower that Nick’s movements became, the more he could feel his entire body wearing out, struggling to keep up with the objects in his hands. He began to grunt and let out large puffs of air, mouth filling up and exhaling synonymous to every time he curled his arm upwards. Joe began to get more and more in his face, mimicking Nick’s noises through the ten second clips.

“Joe, seriously—“ Nick sighed, leaning down to place the dumbbells on the floor. 

“Yeah, seriously?” Joe mocked him, smirking.

Nick was annoyed. He was aggravated with his brother and his overly upbeat attitude. He hated his stupid leggings and the short sleeve shirt that he had rolled up around his shoulders. He hated the tiny happy trail that peeked out on his abdomen when he lifted his arms up. He hated the blotchy patches of sweat that seeped through his clothing. He hated his stupid smile as it collided with the redness that lit up his skin. He hated how Joe’s pupils dilated as his hair shriveled in a drenched blob, strings of it draping over his forehead. He hated how dribbles of water dripped down Joe’s chin, hitting the floor in tiny puddles.

“I think I’m gonna get going,” Joe began. “Haven’t eaten today. What do you want for lunch?”

“Uh—“ Nick said, still trying to pull himself out of his deep trance. “Whatever is fine by me, I guess.”

“I think there’s some stir fry I can make in the freezer,” Joe contemplated, the lines on his face scrunching together.

“Yeah, make that,” Nick agreed, placing the dumbbells back to their rightful place on the shelf before grabbing another set.

“My Lyft is here,” Joe said, looking down at his phone as he slung his bag around his shoulder. “See you in a bit?”

“Yup. I won’t be long,” Nick nodded, giving his brother one more up and down before he bid goodbye.

Nick tried to focus on the music that was playing throughout the speakers on every corner of the gym instead of his brother. As Nick completed his workout, he didn’t think about Joe and the ridges of his back as they prodded against his shirt. As he rolled around on the floor with one of his MMA trainers, he didn’t think about Joe’s tiny tanned shaved ankles that he could probably fit two fingers around. As he suited up all of his things to go home, he didn’t think about the tiny moans Joe tried to mask as he did a series of crunches on the floor.

Nope. He didn’t think about his ridiculously in shape brother at all.

Ending his workout a bit earlier than expected, Nick shoved his things in his bag before scrolling through his snapchat feed— something he found himself doing less and less of nowadays. He’s been told that he was terrible at reciprocating “streaks” and found himself clicking through every story anyways. But he was intrigued by one of the first names that popped up, his brother Joe. In the tiny preview bubble next to his name, he could make out the scenery of the gym with its red-blue color scheme and padding lining the walls. 

The first shot was one of Joe with a caption reading “before.” He had on a straight face with perched lips, purple veins poking out from his neck. His hair was still perfectly quaffed— the way he had left it before leaving the house. The next was a ten second video of himself doing suicide running drills, going back and forth against the length of the gym. Nick wondered how he had missed that. Then there was one of him doing pull-ups from a metal bar far taller than himself. His back muscles clenched, every movement visible even through his thick shirt. Who even offered to take these videos, Nick thought.

And then came the abhorrent snapchats of Nick. The initial few seconds showed him lifting weights up above his chest, oblivious to the fact that Joe’s presence was looming over him. Nick turned up the volume to hear Joe’s voice serve as a narrator of the scene, annoyance immediately forecasting over Nick’s features. 

The thing was he didn’t mind people taking snapchats of him working out. Sometimes. As long as it was warranted and he knew that he was being filmed. So he can at least try to look like he knows what he’s doing.

Nick didn’t care to watch the full length of the next few snapchats of himself. But it wasn’t until he got to the last snapchat, one of Joe’s face that he had to rewind and skip through his entire story once again. He held his finger down on the screen to keep it from going away. Joe’s hair was wet, loose pieces flying in various directions. Sweat beads were clear but evident, dripping beneath his brow. His face was blotched red in the way it only gets when he’s on stage or in this case, at the gym. The caption “after” had Nick squeezing his phone tight in the palm of his hands, wanting to punch stupid Joe and his egotistical self.

The moment that Nick turned the ignition to his car, Frank Sinatra blared through the speakers— Joe clearly forgot to turn the volume down before he got out. The adrenaline in Nick’s body pumped to the sound of the engine, heart rate increasing even as he had just taken a moment inside the gym to cool down. As he pulled out of the parking lot, he found himself absentmindedly pushing his foot harder and harder down on the gas, accelerating way over the speed limit. He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel at every stop light that he hit— seemingly reaching every single one possible. The humidity of the air did nothing to combat the sweat that was accumulating on every pore in his skin, even with the wind that swept through the non-existent roof of his car. His seatbelt felt like a restraint that was suffocating him from breathing straight, vision starting to blur along with it.

The moment that he pulled into the driveway, the song Joe was belting out earlier started on the radio. Nick would laugh at the irony, but he was too clouded and in a daze to really care. Neglecting to put the cover over his car, Nick marched inside and slammed the door shut behind him. The entry of the house was filled with the smell of vegetables and various spices, accompanied by Joe’s humming to whatever was on the radio.

Joe was standing over the stove, still wearing his gym outfit from earlier that day. He hadn’t showered yet, Nick realized.

“Hey,” Joe said, turning around to look at Nick before tending back to the smoke that was emitting from the pan. “Lunch is almost ready. You can take a shower before me if you want.”

And Nick was listening, but didn’t care about the stupid shower. He marched towards Joe, grabbing him by the back of his shoulders and spinning him around. Nick caught a small glimpse of Joe’s pupils blowing outward before their lips collided together. Joe dropped the plastic spatula that was in his hands, allowing it to crash to the floor as a small moan emitted from his mouth.

Nick felt a spark radiate down to his dick at the sound of his brother’s helpless noises paired with the sizzling of the chicken that was now unattended to. He placed a possessive grip on his brother’s hip, the other on his ass as their tongues darted together. He never really realized how small his big brother really was in comparison to himself— even with the extensive amount of time that Joe has recently spent in the gym compared to him. His frame was tiny and petite, where even his most inflated muscles couldn’t make him appear stronger.

Nick pulled backwards for a split second to tug Joe’s shirt over his head, peppering kisses over every part of his face in the process. He nearly passed out at the sight of Joe’s toned chest— chiseled and symmetrical and perfect. There were tiny remnants of black hairs that littered across his chest. Joe was always insecure about his hair there, so he shaved it.

Joe let out a tiny whine as he reached for the edges of Nick’s shirt, trying to take it off himself. Nick frantically pulled it over his shoulder, upper half colliding with his brother. They still had small beads of sweat leftover from the gym, but new ones were forming as they both battled for dominance. But Joe should know by now who always wins that fight.

Nick grabbed Joe by the hips, pressing hard enough to leave bruises later as he propped Joe up against the island.

“Bend over,” Nick demanded, slapping Joe’s ass. 

Joe nodded as his cheek hit the cold granite. Nick hastily tugged the elastic of his shorts down his legs until they pooled around his ankles. And then there were those leggings— those stupid fucking leggings. Nick firmly rubbed his hand over the tight spandex, feeling around for what was underneath.

“Nick, please—“ Joe whined, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Please what?” Nick responded, bending down to whisper in his ear. “Please what, Joe?”

“Please take them off.”

“What?” Nick said with a loud smack to his brother’s bum. “Why do you want me to take them off? I thought you needed your cool compression leggings?”

“Wannemoff,” Joe said with a muffled voice as Nick traced his padded fingers along the waistband, snapping them against his skin.

“Oh yeah? And why is that?” Nick teased, smirking to himself.

“Because I want you to fuck me!” Joe let out all at once, clear and concise.

“Now that’s a good boy.”

Nick swiftly pulled the compressed material down Joe’s legs, only to reveal nothing but Joe’s bare bum.

“Oh, no underwear today?” Nick said, dick growing harder by the second. “You are so naughty. That can’t be good with all the friction and sweat in there, huh?”

Joe wanted to tell Nick that it was more comfortable that way and he didn’t have any of his active boxer-briefs clean, but his thoughts were mushed along with any words that came out of his mouth. 

Pieces of the spandex stuck to Joe’s body along with his built-up sweat, the feeling of his bum hitting the air simultaneously freeing and daunting. Nick swiftly pulled his bottoms off himself, revealing nothing but a smooth canvas from the waist down. Joe’s lower half was completely shaved and recently moisturized— smells of lavender lotion still lingering among them. Nick growled at the thought of his brother methodically tracing a razor up and down his legs in the shower, motioning closer where he reached around and squeezed all seven inches of him.

“Nick,” Joe breathed in a high pitched yelp, moving his hips for more friction.

“Hmm?” Nick hummed, placing his chin on Joe’s shoulder. He wrapped a hand tight around Joe’s dick, slowly and torturously rubbing back and forth, back and forth. “What do you want baby?”

“I want you,” Joe cried, digging his head further into the table. “I want you, Nick.”

“Oh yeah?” Nick nibbled on Joe’s ear, perky nipples rubbing into the ridges of Joe’s back. “How bad?”

“Really bad, Nick. I need you really bad,” Joe was sputtering, wrecked, desperate for it. It was dripping from his voice and going straight to Nick’s cock.

Nick traced a finger over Joe’s hole, circling round and round. Joe nearly screamed at the contact, hands suddenly gripping the edges of the countertop.

“Are you gonna film me working out again Joe? After I told you not to?” Nick said teasingly, abruptly stopping the tracing of Joe’s hole.

“No, Nick. I won’t. I promise I won’t,” Joe said in a rushed speech, heart pounding loud in his ears. He didn’t even know what he was saying. He just needed it and he needed it now.

“You know I don’t like that, Joseph. You were a very—“ Nick disrupted himself to slap Joe hard on the ass, leaving a firm handprint. “Bad boy.”

“I’m sorry,” Joe nearly whimpered, breath forming circles of condensation on the counter.

“Say it again.”

“I’m sorry!” Joe yelled this time, slightly picking his head up from the table.

And before either of them even knew what was happening, Nick shoved his dick inside of Joe, quick and rough. They both yelped out in surprise, leaning against one another closer than before. Nick’s thrusts were deep and long, puncturing Joe over and over again.

Joe was letting out loud moans synonymous to the unintended rhythm Nick had created. Nick grabbed Joe by his wrists, restraining him from flopping around like a fish. He buried his face deep into Joe’s neck, all the built up frustration of watching his brother workout in the gym being put back to right where it came from. 

Their display of butcher knives clattered against the wooden floor, jumping off of the island. The one plant they had positioned in the middle somehow managed to find its way to the ground as well, soil spreading and leaving a dirty mess next to its lone pot. 

Joe clenched his teeth together, fighting back the simultaneous pain and pleasure he was feeling from the dry penetration. His dick was bouncing up and down against his belly, flopping every which way.

“You look so hot like this, baby. All wound up and pretty.”

Joe’s mouth was parted open, eyes shut as Nick’s words translated to nothing but gibberish inside of his head. Nick’s thrusts started to get more erratic and unfocused. So Joe hastily tugged his wrists out of Nick’s grasp, motioning for Nick to pull his dick out of him before swiftly turning around and getting on his knees. The cold tile was unpleasant against his smooth skin but he remained there anyways, quickly engulfing Nick in his mouth. He curled his lips around his teeth as he bobbed up and down, allowing for Nick to grab him by the tips of his hair and roughly guide his mouth further and further down. Nick’s dick was pretty and thick— almost too wide to fit into Joe’s mouth. But he took it and he took it well.

The back of Nick’s member punctured Joe’s throat, emitting a choking noise from Joe. Nick wanted to pull away and finish this off some other way, but Joe’s wide eyes and fluttery eyelashes said otherwise. And so Nick kept going, grabbing onto the edge of the countertop as his knees began to buckle.

“Joe, baby—“ Nick breathed. “I’m— I’m really close.”

And right at that point, as if on cue, Joe reached out his tiny fingers to massage Nick’s two balls, kneading them together. Nick nearly screamed as he buckled forward, pulling out of Joe’s mouth mid-orgasm. A strip of his cum remained inside Joe’s mouth as he pulled backwards. He kept his mouth wide open and squeezed his eyes shut, letting spurts of it shoot all over his cheeks, his eyelashes, and even on his chest. Nick nearly blacked out at the sight before him— his Joe, his pretty slutty Joe taking all of it and swallowing it until there was no trace left in his mouth.

Nick’s legs turned to jello as he came down from his high where Joe was still whimpering on the floor, pumping his hand furiously around his cock for relief. Nick bent down and swatted Joe’s hand away, hovering over his lap and taking Joe’s long length in his mouth. He wasn’t even halfway there before thick spurts of his cum filled his mouth. He pumped his hand over Joe’s length, milking him for every last drop as his whole body twitched, flopping against the floor.

“Oh my God,” Joe mumbled, curling up and leaning his head against the island. “That was—“

“Yeah,” Nick smirked, finishing Joe’s thought for him.

The two lay together on the floor, tangled up in one another for a moment before Nick placed a chaste kiss on Joe’s lips. Joe pulled back to stare at Nick in his eyes, about to make an inappropriate comment about some of the cum that was still sitting in his mouth as the smoke detector went off, beeping throughout the whole house.

“So uh, takeout for lunch?” Nick smiled, tucking a strand of Joe’s hair behind his ear.

“I think so,” Joe smiled, looking thoroughly looped out and fucked.

And that definitely won’t be the last time Joe takes a sneaky snapchat of Nick.


End file.
